“Yeah, I also got stuff to make s’mores,” he said. Peyton kissed him slowly, parting his lips and gently stroking his tongue with hers. It had seemed like an eternity to Reed since they kissed this way. She smiled when they pulled apart; it seemed an eternity since he saw that, too. He flashed a wry smile. “I also brought you out here because I want to see you in a bikini.”
“I bet you do.” Then something occurred to her. “You packed clothes for me, too?”
“No, I left that to Quinn. I didn’t want to rummage through your underwear drawer.”
“I hope Quinn didn’t analyze my panties.”
“Bret probably did.” Reed reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze, thankful a glimmer of his girl had returned.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Like 15 hours. But don’t worry, I slept in a separate bedroom. Twin bed, so it was rough. Think I’ll try the couch tonight.”
“Sorry.” She looked back at the beach cottage. “Two bedrooms?” Reed nodded. “It’s bigger than it looks. You could bring a whole family here.”
Reed turned as green as the seaweed. “You could,” he said safely.
With Bret talking about marriage, and now Peyton talking about family, he was in a galaxy lightyears away from Heather and her kind — and what was his own life, a prior life. Then he looked back at the cottage, and ever the architect, could picture what she meant: parents dancing in the sand under the stars, then making love in the master bedroom; children sleeping down the hall in the twin beds, after playing all day on the beach; a family dog running around outside the cottage, kicking up sand off the deck. He could see Peyton in it, and he could see himself by her side — but everything else, he wasn’t so sure.
He reached for her hand in the sand then turned back towards the Gulf, a warm breeze blowing in. He found Peyton’s eyes on him, studying him, trying to read his thoughts. He cleared his throat to compose himself. Then she gave a slight shiver, her black dress wet from the waves.
“Let’s go see if Quinn packed a bikini,” he said then picked her up and carried her back towards the cottage.
Peyton felt her heart jump. He carried me to bed last night.
* * *
After a warm bath and some lunch, Peyton finally put on a bikini — underneath a long button-down shirt. She was thankful Quinn had packed the shirt, remembering everything she might need — all the way down to the “Shame on You” kit — though she did curse her friend for not packing a one-piece suit.
She walked out of the beach cottage onto the deck, feeling somewhat naked, to find Reed sitting on the steps. He looked her up and down, frowning at the ridiculous shirt but drooling over her long, toned legs.
He turned his back to her. “Hop on.”
“I’ll crush you!”
“No, you won’t.”
“Where are we going?”
“Does it matter?” Reed grabbed her and hoisted her on his back.
Peyton giggled and swatted his shoulders. “Put me down, you crazy, crazy man!”
“I finally got your legs wrapped around me,” he teased, starting down the beach. “Don’t ruin it.”
Peyton laughed so hard she almost peed on his back. But she soon settled in, breathing in the crisp salty air, looking around at the crashing waves and white sand, feeling the strength of his muscles. She thought back to the last week: she’d been a complete mess, a nervous wreck planning a funeral and grieving the last of her family. She knew there would be more grieving, more anxiety, but for now it felt good to enjoy the ride, to let Reed take over, with the wind at her back and blowing through her hair.
After a few minutes, Reed lowered her down, pretending he’d thrown out his back, and she playfully punched him in the arm. Then they walked along the beach holding hands, laughing and talking about everything and nothing, occasionally stopping to pick up a shell or crash a wave. He looked back at the cottage about a quarter mile away before tossing a shell into the Gulf.
“Race you back,” Peyton said, a mischievous look in her eye.
“What do I get when I beat you?” he asked.
“What do I get when I beat you?” She hadn’t run in days but knew she’d still beat him. After all, she was a trained runner, and he’d slept last night in a bed made for a toddler and just carried her a good way down the beach.
Reed captured her in his arms. “Anything you want.”
“OK, I’ll take that. And I’ll let you know what I want after I win.”
“When I win,” Reed said, tugging at her shirt, “you take this awful thing off.”
“Deal,” Peyton said, confident her bikini would stay hidden.
They took their starting positions. “Ready!” Peyton said, looking at him from the corner of her eye.
“Set!” Reed said, both of them digging in their heels.
“Go!” Peyton screamed and took off like a bullet, kicking up sand in her wake.
“Shit!” Reed cursed, seeing he was in trouble. He hadn’t expected her to start so fast. She was already ten feet ahead of him, and he pushed himself to catch up. But he wasn’t gaining any ground. I can’t lose to a girl! He increased his pace, hoping his boxing training could somehow help, digging as hard and as deep as he could, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Quinn or Bret if he lost.
He slowly closed the gap, now five feet behind with about 100 yards to go. But Peyton wasn’t letting up at all. Then a gust of wind blew her long button-down shirt up above her bikini bottom, and Reed fixed his eyes on her tight, little ass. He took it as a sign from God, some kind of divine inspiration to spur him on, providing an extra bit of motivation. He wanted to see more. He needed to see more. He ran in and out of the sand, faster and faster, harder and harder.
With ten yards to go, he pulled even and matched her stride for stride, and at the last yard moved slightly ahead, beating her to the back deck by no more than a foot. Then he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. “Jesus Christ!” he cried through ragged breath. “You’re fast!”
Peyton paced around him, catching her breath, fuming he’d caught her — that she’d allowed herself to be caught. She looked down at him, panting and exhausted, and couldn’t believe it. All the years she’d spent running — to make sure no one could catch her again — and Reed had just done it. She twirled her locket, pissed as hell, thinking she was faster. I should be faster.
Reed struggled to his knees and looked up at her. “Strip,” he said.
Peyton narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d lost but wasn’t about to welch on a bet. She slowly undid the top button of her shirt then moved to the next, her hand slightly trembling, her legs quivering beneath her. Get it together. She undid the next button, and Reed got a quick peek at part of her bikini top. She slowly slid her hand down to the third button on her shirt, her hand trembling even more.
Reed pushed himself up from the sand and struggled to his feet. He then lowered her hands from her shirt and took hold of them. She dropped her hands to her hips, assuming he wanted to take off the shirt himself. But he put his hand on the top button and fastened it.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Then he fixed the second button. “I’ll see your body when you’re ready to share it,” Reed said, looking sweetly into her eyes, “not because I won a bet.”
* * *
After watching the sunset from the deck, both snuggled under a blanket together, the chilly night breeze forced them back inside. Reed turned off all the lights and started a fire in the fireplace. He stretched out on the sofa behind Peyton, resting her head on his chest, their fingers locked together. He breathed in her familiar vanilla scent, now mixed with the salty Gulf breeze. He moved her long hair to the side, past her scar, and began to kiss her neck, his lips grazing her warm skin, letting his tongue linger. Peyton purred softly, testing his will and making it harder for him to hold back. He leaned his head back on the sofa and took a deep breath, trying to remind himself the trip was for grieving and heal
ing, not bumping and grinding.
But Peyton didn’t want him to stop. Without saying a word, she got up and turned her back to the fire crackling behind her. Her heart racing, her knees weak, she started to slowly unbutton her shirt, looking him in the eye as her hands moved.
Reed sat up straight, waiting and hoping. He could hardly believe his eyes. I’m not stopping her this time.
She felt her hands tremble at each button but told herself to keep going. Be brave. She undid the last button and dropped her shirt to the floor. She reached behind to unhook her bra and slowly slid the straps down, still holding the bra over her breasts. Then she dropped her bra to the floor, her long brown hair falling onto her bare breasts.
He stood up from the sofa, taking her in, the silhouette of her body framed by the firelight. He hardly knew what to do — an uncommon feeling for him — unsure what Peyton was allowing him to do. His eyes slid over her body, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. He pushed her hair covering her breasts onto her back, so he could really see her now. He put his arms around her, resting his hands on her bare back, giving her some confidence and support.
She watched his steel blue eyes as he looked her up and down, like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And her fear and doubt melted away. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his before lifting his shirt over his head and pulling him closer, her warm full breasts pushing against his hard chest. He lifted her up off the ground, running his fingertips down her spine, and she wrapped her legs around him.
He carried her to the sofa and gave her top lip a gentle suck then traced her lips lightly with his tongue, causing Peyton to moan and part her lips. He pulled back slightly, seeing her eyes closed in full desire. He leaned back to her mouth, warm against his, and pulled her body tighter. He ran his hands through her hair and gripped her ass covered in shorts, before moving on to her breasts. He traced the curves of her breasts with his fingers then held them in his hands, feeling her nipples harden. She arched her back as he ran kisses down her neck.
Reed took one breast into his mouth and sucked her into submission. Her breath heavy and ragged, she dug her fingers into his back, a wave of heat shooting through her. He moved to her other breast, slipping it into his mouth, rolling his tongue around her hard nipple. Peyton felt a pool of wetness between her legs, feeling she could orgasm at any moment. Reed sensed it, too. He wanted to see it. He’d waited so long. He reached his hand down her shorts and under her panties, grabbing her bare ass, pulling her tightly to him, letting her feel how hard he was.
Out of nowhere, a big, hearty voice flew inside Peyton’s head — as booming as the voice of God casting out church thieves. Dr. Lorraine. She panicked. Share your heart before your body. Peyton suddenly shoved Reed away with both hands, knocking him off balance and down to the floor.
Reed reached for his tailbone. He’d never been kicked out of bed before — or off a sofa — by any woman. He let out a chuckle, as Peyton threw her hands over her face.
“Sorry!” she said, mortified, knowing she could’ve just touched his arm or whispered to him to remove his hand. Another overreaction to another guy. Idiot.
His chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, pleased he’d finally hit second base — almost third — and generally amused by Peyton now peeking through her fingers. “Don’t be,” he said and handed Peyton her shirt. “I knew I was pushing my luck, but I really can’t help myself anymore.”
Peyton held her shirt in her hand. “Do you think you can behave yourself now?”
Reed nodded like a good boy. “Then come to bed.” She dropped her shirt and held out her hand to help him up. “I want you to sleep in bed with me. I want to wake up with you next to me.”
* * *
The waves crashing outside, the fire still crackling, they lay in bed together in the darkness. Reed knew things were going nowhere tonight. He wished they were — rolling around naked in the sheets — but he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. There was no sense complaining or pouting or pressuring her. He just had to enjoy unwrapping her, to enjoy each sliver of her, until one day, hopefully, he’d get the whole pie.
“This is actually the first time I’ve ever done this,” he whispered, unsure whether she was asleep.
“What?”
“Slept next to a woman. I think I could get used to it.”
“Me, too.” Peyton yawned, cuddling against his chest. “I like being your first.”
Reed kissed her forehead, smiling, wondering whether she’d be his first and his last. He closed his eyes falling asleep.
* * *
Reed woke up as never before — in a tangled web of arms, legs, and hair — Peyton wrapped around him, still sleeping. It was sweet to see her this way. He wanted to wake up like this everyday, to stay here with her forever.
Then suddenly his heart pounded, seeing what was poking through his boxer briefs and the sheets. It was as if the Space Needle was transported during the night from Seattle to Seaside. He’d never faced this situation before, his morning arousal so visible, mere inches from a woman — and one who’d proven she wasn’t going to do anything about it, at least not yet. And he didn’t expect her to. He told himself again to be patient. Please don’t wake up yet.
But he needed more than words. He needed action. And jerking off wasn’t an option. He formed a plan and made his move. With one arm around Peyton, he slid the other into his boxer briefs. He tried to poke it, squeeze it, bend it, choke it — all very gently, of course — in hopes it would go away. But nothing worked. It just wouldn’t be denied — not with such a hot girl in his arms, not after last night around the fireplace. He cursed under his breath then changed plans.
He tried to scoot over, to get out of bed before she woke up, but Peyton moved with him like a magnet. He smiled and tried again, this time attempting to roll her on her side, but she simply turned back to him, throwing her arm on top of him and nuzzling her head into his neck. He smiled again before making a third attempt, gently picking up her hand to place it at her side, but she slid her hand away and released a little moan before her hand landed squarely on top of his rock hard dick.
Reed froze. He looked at her face. She was still sound asleep. But she’d be up any minute. Time was running out. He needed it to go away. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to think of the most unpleasant things in the whole world — root canals, the Saints losing to a shitty team, nails against a chalkboard, female bodybuilders. Nothing worked — and certainly not now, with her warm hand against him, more powerful than any mind trick.
He lifted his head and looked down at her hand on him. He couldn’t let Peyton wake up this way — with her hand on his dick only a foot from her face. He started to sweat. He couldn’t move, and things were moving in the wrong direction. Shit. He was getting fuller, harder, longer. He tried to wiggle out from under her. Then Peyton started to move. She let out a little moan and flexed her fingers around him. Her eyes flashed open.
Reed quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, not wanting to embarrass her and also more than a little curious what she’d do. He felt her head lift from his shoulder, her hair slightly brushing his cheek. He could tell she was studying his face to see if he was awake, so he tried to keep his breathing calm, steady. He felt her hand move off him and nearly groaned at the loss of contact.
“I know you’re awake,” she said, sliding her finger underneath his waistband.
Reed blinked his eyes like he just woke up. “What? Huh? What’s going on?”
“I know you’ve been awake,” she said again. “You’re not a good liar.”
Reed stopped blinking and rolled his eyes. “Aw hell, I woke up, and you had your hand there! I tried to move it away!”
“Why would you do that?” she asked, leaning down to kiss his neck and slowly rubbing him with her hand. “Do you not like my hand?”
“No, no, no,” he said, trying to speak, his mind spinning, the room feelin
g like an inferno. “I love it.”
Peyton pulled down his boxer briefs, letting his massive erection fly free, her eyes marveling at the size, the thickness. She ran her thumb across the warm tip before reaching over to the nightstand for some lotion. Then she climbed on top of him, her breasts exposed, and straddled his thighs firmly. She wrapped her hand around his dick, the cool lotion a sharp contrast to his heat. She slowly moved her hand up and down, using her wrist to stroke him. Reed held her hips, then she gripped him a little tighter, increasing her speed, falling into a nice rhythm. She chuckled inside, knowing she hadn’t done this in a long time but thinking a hand job was a lot like riding a bike. Peyton continued to stroke him with one hand then took her other and gently cupped his balls, massaging them gently.
“Holy fuck!” Reed groaned then pulled her beside him, grabbing her ass and kissing her hard on the lips.
She slid her hand over him harder, faster, feeling his entire body tense and his toes curl. She could tell he was close. She locked her eyes on his as he finished and called out her name. She continued to massage him, making sure to claim every last bit.
“I think I’ll need a wake-up call every morning,” he panted.
“I think that can be arranged.” She grabbed a towel and handed it to him. Then Reed moved on top of her, looking to return the favor, but she nudged him away. It was one thing for her to be in control of his body but quite another to let him be in control of her body — and not before she did as Dr. Lorraine advised. “This was about you.”
Reed sat up quickly. “What? I’m not that guy! I’m not selfish like that! No way!” Peyton got out of bed. “Hey, don’t walk away!”
“I’m hungry,” she said, throwing on a shirt. “Go shower, and I’ll make breakfast.”
“No,” Reed said. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember? I should be making you breakfast, giving you mind-blowing orgasms!”
Peyton smiled. “It was mind-blowing?”
Reed smiled back. “You know it was, baby.” He got up and reached for her. “Seriously, I don’t feel right about this.”
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